


Why Am I Alone?

by sarangx



Series: Why Am I Alone? [1]
Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 12:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13811166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarangx/pseuds/sarangx
Summary: Dowoon thought he had gotten used to the loneliness that settled in his heart, but four odd boys he found in the abandoned band room flip his world.





	Why Am I Alone?

**Author's Note:**

> this work has very heavy themes! specific warnings will be noted in the beginning of each chapter, so please read them to stay safe.

Yoon Dowoon was a shy boy. He had always been since he was young—he had preferred to read quietly in a corner or study, even when there wasn’t a test coming up. Other kids didn’t care much, so he had found himself alone for most of his life.

He got into college of his own accord; with a full-paid scholarship and pure will, he became a music major and devoted his time to his classes. He didn’t try to make friends.

He usually found himself in the barren band room. No one was ever there, and he had only discovered it because he had been wandering around the campus. He doubted even the staff knew about it. But that was probably the main reason why Dowoon adored the area so much. There were still instruments placed, albeit dusty, and he took full advantage of them. He could play a bit of guitar, but he was most fond of the drums—he had always loved the idea of being a drummer, and despite his parents’ sure disapproval, he had secretly learned the terminology and techniques online. But he had yet to actually execute what he had learned.

So on the first day he had found the band room, he headed straight to the drums. With a soft blow on the crash symbols, the dust flew away in translucent plumes. He had sat down on the stool, and with a pair of drumsticks he had always lugged around, he played.

Perhaps it was the controlled loudness that he loved. Or maybe it was the thrumming of each beat under his feet that secured his love for music. Dowoon wasn’t quite sure _what_ it was, but he was absolutely enamored with the drums.

After that, he spent more time in the band room than he did in his individual dorm. He wouldn’t admit it, but it was lonely in the small space that he had; the blinds were always closed and the cupboards were empty besides a few cups of instant ramyeon. He rarely turned on the light, and the fan would always whir quietly above his head. It didn’t feel like home—though he wasn’t sure what that felt like in the first place—so Dowoon left it in the same state it had been when he first arrived.

For as long as he had known, there was never any signs of anyone having been in the band room. The instruments would always be in the same position he’d left them in, and he never heard any students talk about it, either—and since he was a music major, he’d think some students in his dorm would know about it. But it seemed like it was an unknown space that only Dowoon had discovered, and he was perfectly fine with keeping it to himself.

But then he heard music coming from it one day. He had just finished up his music theory class and was going to practice a new rock song he had listened to on Spotify. His plans seemed to be foiled, though, when the strum of a guitar sounded from within the band room. He had finally noticed it when he was right in front of the door, earbuds in hand, eyes tired, and body frozen.

Due to the vertical window above the doorknob, he could see a blonde—he was concentrating on his acoustic guitar, eyes trained on the strings as his fingers plucked expertly. His lips were closed together and Dowoon could swear he heard him humming.

Suddenly, though, like he had felt someone’s eyes on him, the guitarist looked up. His eyes locked with Dowoon’s and immediately, the brunette looked away and was about to turn around when the other boy shouted out a greeting.

”Hey! Were you gonna come in here?”

Dowoon slowly faced the door again, pondering the question. He didn’t think he had time to come again that week, so he sighed heavily through his nose before he opened the door and walked through the threshold.

He didn’t talk to the other, instead gazing at the newly opened curtains with a grimace. He chose to ignore the blonde, walking over to the drumset and setting his backpack on the wall. He grabbed his drumsticks with care, twirling them around his fingers absentmindedly as he looked over his phone with his free hand.

”Oh! Do you play the drums?” The boy smiled, curiosity glittering in his eyes.

”Yeah,” Dowoon answered curtly, sparing him a glance before he continued searching for the beats of the song he had been hoping to practice. But despite his obvious disinterest, the boy kept talking.

”Wow! I never thought I’d meet a drummer in this school! In this old band room, no less!” He continued speaking animatedly, hands moving rapidly. “My name’s Park Jaehyung! I’m a music theory major! I’m a junior, how about you?”

”Freshman,” Dowoon decided to answer, figuring that although the guy was too enthusiastic for his taste, he was still his senior. “Dowoon. Music major.”

Before Jaehyung could respond, the brunette flicked his drumsticks back into place and mumbled the beats under his breath. He tapped his foot softly as he played the song, wrists lax and eyes concentrated on the phone he had placed on the music stand in front of the drumset. He didn’t have to look for his hands to know where to go—it was muscle memory at that point. As he continued, he made several mistakes that otherwise wouldn’t be heard by listeners. Nonetheless, he cursed to himself whenever it happened, but continued the song anyway. When he had finished his first run-through, his brows were furrowed in frustration as he highlighted the beats he had missed on his phone.

”Ah! That was really good!” The exclamation caused Dowoon to jump slightly. He had forgotten about the junior. “That was Pray, right? By FTisland?”

Dowoon’s hand froze from his critiquing. He looked up, surprised the guitarist had known the song. It was a pretty old rock song, and he had expected Jaehyung to only know pop.

”You’re cute,” the blonde laughed. Dowoon hadn’t noticed he had tilted his head while he had been thinking. He quickly looked away and tried to hide his flushed cheeks, busying himself with his phone even though all he could think about was what the older boy had said. He never did handle compliments well.

”So, tell me—Dowoon, right?—when did you start learning the drums?”

After that, Dowoon became accustomed with Jaehyung being there. Despite his avidity with just about everything, he was a genuine and kind person. He seemed to know when Dowoon didn’t want to talk about something or if he had gone too far. He was surprisingly considerate and although he came off as a bit pushy, he was a good person and a talented student.

Jae—as he later practically commanded the younger to call him after the nth ‘hyung’—was majoring in music theory and had an affinity for the guitar and singing. He had been interested in guitar since he was a baby, saying how his favorite toy was the little plastic guitar that was bigger than his cat. He had trouble with keeping still in guitar lessons, until eventually, he stopped them and learned himself. He was particularly talented in performing rock songs than any classic campfire tunes, which was how he had known the song Dowoon had been playing that fateful day. His parents had regularly played hard rock in their car rides, and though they later divorced, they still played the same songs in different cars.

All of this Dowoon knew from listening to Jae babble. He talked a _lot_ , and though Dowoon was shy and timid, he was a good listener. He didn’t usually show his interest toward Jae—probably because he, himself, didn’t know—but he had always listened to the little tales the junior came to the band room rattling on about. Dowoon could hear the emotions, could tell that the divorce had caused him some trauma, could tell that his sisters were important to him despite how they treated each other, and he could tell that Jae wasn’t just some happy-go-lucky guy who had stumbled into an arts college for the hell of it.

So maybe that was why Dowoon actually enjoyed his company so much. Or maybe it was because he hadn’t had a friend before. Or maybe because Jae was _Jae_ and he couldn’t not like him even if he tried—and he did—whatever the case, Dowoon wasn’t alone. He had Jae. And though he had to give up the band room for the both of them, he found he wasn’t as against it as he had first thought.

 

 

It was in the middle of the second quarter when the others joined them.

Dowoon had finished up his literature class and was on his way to the band room. The air was cold so he had bundled up in a big dark green sweater that had the college logo printed on the front, and paired with his dark jeggings, he was quite comfortable. And with his earbuds blasting music, he wasn’t at all prepared for the crowded band room.

Well, ‘crowded’ was a bit of an exaggeration, but to reserved Dowoon, it was far too many people in one space. Even just Jae in there was pushing it, but three more people? It was unfathomable.

But it was too late; Dowoon had already entered the room and had finally realized it after looking up. His eyes had widened in surprise and the music in his ears suddenly dissipated. Four pairs of eyes stared back at him.

There was a brunette who was sitting down and leaning against his guitar. His hair was slightly ruffled but his appearance otherwise looked well-kept; he was wearing a flannel underneath their college’s jacket and had it paired with clean black jeans that looked brand new. He looked like a senior or junior.

Another guy was seated backwards on a plastic chair, chin raised from the position atop his hands. His black hair looked soft and his face even softer, but his eyes were surprisingly sharp and defined. He looked the most casual out of all of them—with a black sweater that practically swallowed his body whole and ripped jeans to match, he gave off an easygoing aura that eased Dowoon’s nervousness, however slight.

The last guy was the one who caught Dowoon’s eye first. With fluffy chestnut hair and chocolate eyes, he was sitting behind the old piano. He had a button-upped shirt and black leggings that slipped into his sneakers and a pair of thick black glasses perched on his nose. His button nose was oddly endearing, and paired with his curious eyes, he looked like a baby deer.

All three of them—plus Jae, of course—were staring at Dowoon. It didn’t help that they were all extremely handsome and that he had just come from a two-hour morning lecture that had started at seven o’clock, most likely looking like utter shit.

”Dowoon-ah! You came!” Jae yelled happily, startling everyone else out of their reverie. “I was afraid you’d go straight to your dorm after class!”

”How the hell do you know my schedule?” Dowoon deadpanned, not quite sure if he should be flattered or mortified.

“No matter about that,” the older boy said with a dismissive wave of his hand, wrapping his arm around Dowoon’s shoulders as he led him to the group of strangers. “Now, you should meet my friends! Wonpil over there majors in music education. Oh, and he’s a freshman like you!” He pointed over to the deer-like boy by the piano. Said boy waved awkwardly.

”Over there is Brian,” Jae continued, nodding over to the guy with black hair. “He’s a sophomore and he majors in music composition.” He waved with an easy smile. “And Sungjin—he’s a junior who majors in film scoring.”

Dowoon was still in a bit of shock at the fast pace the introductions were going. But nonetheless, he muttered his name shyly and bowed. The tips of his ears burned bright red.

He later learned that he was the youngest. Jae said they wouldn’t care too much about honorifics, but Dowoon used them anyway. Wonpil’s lips would curl up into a tiny smile whenever he did, so Dowoon figured he should continue doing so.

Wonpil was the quieter of the three. He seemed to have a lot to say but no way of saying it—he’d open his mouth and then close it, blinking one, two, three more times before shaking his head and smiling as if nothing ever happened. He usually took to the piano or his own personal keyboard whenever the thoughts seemed to cloud his brain too much. His dainty fingers would run along the keys and his eyes would flutter shut and his body would sway the tiniest bit. The only word to describe how he looked, Dowoon thought, would be _ethereal_.

Sungjin was, by Dowoon’s standards, the gentlest of the three. His eyes were always soft, and his voice just as much. The songs that rang from underneath his fingertips of the guitar were tender and kind. They had no lyrics, but Sungjin seemed to have a way of using words without exactly saying them. He could trigger the imagination with the strum of a single string, and to Dowoon, he could only describe it as pure, unadulterated magic.

Brian was the most guarded. His aura and his behavior said otherwise, but his eyes remained a brown blockade. He’d smile kindly and he’d laugh with everyone else, but there was something off about him that Dowoon couldn’t shake. Maybe it was the way his eyes would suddenly squeeze shut when he thought no one was looking, or maybe it was the way he clutched his bass like it was his lifeline. Dowoon didn’t know, but there was a creeping sense of familiarity in the forced smiles and blank gaze Brian wore.

Dowoon considered himself to be observant; he was a man of few words and small acknowledgement. He’d always been that way, and from the beginning, he knew more than he let on. There was something sad behind the eyes of the four boys he met in the band room, and he’d be lying if he were to say he couldn’t relate and that they were too much trouble than what they were worth. Dowoon had been alone for a long, long time. He made a decision, right then, to see what would happen if he took the chance to see what trouble the boys _were_ worth.


End file.
